


the tigers come at night

by orphan_account



Category: Phandom/The Fantastic Foursome (YouTube RPF)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-30
Updated: 2018-03-30
Packaged: 2019-04-14 20:49:28
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,602
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14144277
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: **tw for eating disorder mention, self conscious about weight, etc.dan goes through a tag he shouldn’t have, and this is the result. basically a lot of sad fluff ?





	the tigers come at night

Night for Phil was always calm and pleasant and enjoyable. He liked the dark and the comfortability surrounding his room. Today, it was oddly calm, actually. The sky was dark, clear, speckled with stars and the air was cool. Phil would know - his window was wide open considering he was currently in the dead middle of a heatwave and in England, it wasn’t exactly /cold/ in the summertime. 

In other words, there was nothing out of the ordinary to be concerned about tonight. Well, maybe other than /hopefully/ filming tomorrow, but Phil wasn’t sure he’d be able to get through making an entire video without passing out from heat exhaustion. 

Here’s the deal. They were supposed to film a video for the gaming channel, but when Phil had suggested it to his boyfriend (well, kind of; it was complicated), he was simply waved out of his room, Dan left to his own agenda for the rest of the day. Phil knew why, too - it was likely an off-day for Dan, and they were happening more and more often. It’s not like you’re exactly able to do anything about it though - it wasn’t Phil’s place to force Dan to film today - so he left and played on his computer until the sun went down, completely alone. 

It was fine, because lately, that’s basically all that’s been happening. 

After all, the tour /was/ coming up. They’d never lived the life of touring and living out of a suitcase for months straight before, and Dan was probably trying to get as much rest as possible before they hit the road. Phil didn’t blame him. He should’ve been doing that too. 

The calmness and the heat must’ve deceived Phil into falling into an easy slumber, but it didn’t last the night. Rather a few short hours until he was awoken again. He heard a noise. 

It sounded similar to whining or crying- no, somebody was definitely crying. His first thought was immediately to check at his window, taking into consideration it was open and there were usually some /crazies/ out at night. As he tossed his duvet off his body and stumbled over to his window, he discovered it to have been somebody...else. Nobody was making any noise outside, apart from the late cars racing down the streets and the noises coming from animals and insects around. 

That meant it must’ve been coming from somebody in the house; before Phil even realized what he was doing, he was racing out of his room and to Dan’s to check on him. Dan’s room in their flat was only across the hall, so he got to the door only momentarily. 

The crying was louder as he stood outside the room it was - now very obviously - coming from. His heart was pounding out of his chest as he nervously brought his hand up to knock, making Dan aware of his presence outside the door. Dan never cried, especially not during his ‘episodes’, so Phil knew something serious must’ve been happening. Phil knocked twice, and Dan immediately stopped crying a moment. 

“Oh- God, no, s-s’late, Phil, go to sleep-” 

Dan’s room was cold, and night for Dan, especially lately, was even colder. He was always left up to his own thoughts and more times than not, he’d stay up with his phone in hand, brightness dimmed to the lowest setting, scrolling through page after page after page of comments. It was almost therapeutic, in a way, aside for the fact that Dan was never usually reading /good/ comments. 

Sometimes he would, but tonight was not one of those nights. 

He’d go through tags and comments and filters of hate, because that’s just what his head always went to when it was dark outside, when the sun had no way to temporarily block out the negativity. When it was light out, whether Dan liked the shine or not, he felt better. At least by a small margin. When it was dark, though… 

The saying goes that the tigers come at night, after all. 

Tonight was no different. Tonight, the filter he was going through was none other than ‘fat’, and Dan didn’t tear his eyes away until he physically couldn’t read the dimly-lit screen’s words through his blurry eyelashes anymore. 

He’d slipped from his bed onto the floor, and his eyes caught glance of his body-length mirror as he collapsed to the floor. He needed to check. He needed to see if they were right. 

Dan anxiously ripped his shirt off his body and shakily stood in front of the mirror, turning every which way he could to get the best - and worst - views of his body he could. The words he’d read earlier rang like voices he couldn’t make out through his head. He prodded at his stomach and stared holes into his shoulders and smoothed over his chest over and over and over and /over/. His eyes were drawn to himself like a car crash- he /couldn’t/ look away, even if he wanted to. 

God, they were all so /right/. He’d gotten so much /bigger/ the past while. How hadn’t he noticed? 

Considering it was almost two in the morning and Dan had next to no rational thoughts anymore, he found his way back onto the floor, curling into a ball at the foot of his bed, quiet sobs and hiccups escaping his lips. His eyes were still blurry as he stared - more like glared - himself down in the mirror. 

He couldn’t believe he let himself get this bad. 

Why had Phil never told him about how /big/ he’d gotten? 

Through his eyes, he didn’t see Dan anymore. His two-in-the-morning-eyes-and-thoughts only saw weight and numbers. Tonight, night was no longer just cold. Tonight was freezing and selfish and isolating and painful and agony and /numbers/. 

“Let me in, Dan,” came the response. How long had it been? “Dan?” 

“Y-you can’t come in,” he murmured. He was still collapsed on the floor, shirtless with goosebumps all over his torso and arms. He regretted everything - regretted staying up so late, reading everything, looking in the mirror, not keeping track of his body before it came to /this/. “I’m try’na sleep. G-go to bed.” 

Phil was nearing desperate outside the door. He didn’t want to open it even if it was unlocked, because he was so scared. What if Dan was seriously hurt or what if he wasn’t in a position to see anybody? He didn’t want to disrespect Dan at all, but he was /crying/ and quite obviously needed some sort of help. 

He heard a quiet, maybe shameful sniffle come from Dan and that’s what it took. 

Phil opened the door. Dan’s room was brighter than his was at night by default, so finding Dan - on the floor, shirtless and cowering - wasn’t nearly as hard physically as it was mentally. What had happened? Had Phil done something? 

“Oh my God, Dan,” Phil rushed down to the floor as Dan tried hid his face, quite evidently tear stained and flustered. “Look at me, just breathe, okay? Are you alrig- no, you’re obviously not alright, that-that was stupid, wh-what happened to you?” Phil’s voice was anxious as he wrapped his lanky arms around Dan’s torso. He hated trying to comfort people. He was quite shit at it, honestly, and he tried to avoid conflict as much as possible. 

But sometimes, though rarely, it was unavoidable and Dan obviously still needed help, but he still wasn’t good at it. Even if Dan always told him he was. 

Dan’s reply was shocking. “Fuck off. I need to be alone right now,” he choked. It was the first thing that came to mind and he was beyond exhaustion by this point. He didn’t care anymore. 

Phil didn’t budge. He was Dan’s boyfriend-kind-of-boyfriend and Dan was in distress - what was he supposed to do? Leave him up to himself to cry the whole night? Fuck that. “Dan, seriously, you need to talk to me. I can help-”

“I said /fuck off/,” Dan muttered, shutting his eyes. He was shaking against Phil’s arms again, and he knew he’d start crying out of hysteria pretty soon if Phil didn’t let go. “Let me go.”

“Talk to me, goddamnit, Dan!” Phil exclaimed. He pressed a short kiss to the top of Dan’s head, his voice cracking ever-so-slightly at the end of his exclamation. He needed to know what was wrong with Dan. Nobody cried on their floor at two in the morning because /nothing/ was wrong. “I can’t help you if I don’t know what’s wrong.” 

Dan grumbled lowly at Phil. He didn’t want to talk about what was wrong, because he knew exactly what Phil would say - as with all of their dedicated, lovely viewers. They’d all try and prove him wrong - he wasn’t fat, and it didn’t matter if he was, as long as he was happy. “I don’t want to tell you about it.” He choked, wiping harshly at his eyes. 

He didn’t want to talk about it, he was never really one to explicitly talk about things that bothered him. He was cryptic and vague and confusing and usually, he liked that mysterious part about himself. It sometimes caused issues issues in situations like this, though, which straight up frustrated him sometimes. It sucked. He didn’t want to be detailed and clear. 

“I can’t help you if you don’t talk to me, sweetheart,” Phil very, /very/ solemn used endearing terms to refer to Dan, because he liked to save that kind of intimacy for necessary times. His voice was soft and comforting; much like the night should be. 

Dan’s ears perked up slightly at the mention of the sweet name, and his heart almost melted. His skin still felt on fire though, and the name didn’t exactly help considering their current embrace.

Dan was tired. The night was wearing him out, and he didn’t have very much energy to care anymore. “Okay. Okay, fine,” he said, looking up to the mirror they were sitting in front of, “be- be honest, okay?” Phil nodded, resting his head on Dan’s shoulder - though it didn’t last very long. 

“Don’t you think I’m getting, like, fat?” 

Phil’s head shot off of Dan’s shoulder, but he was still staring into the mirror, his eyes wide, shocked. They made eye contact in the dark reflection, and Phil’s heart broke into a thousand pieces at the question. He didn’t know Dan was /still/ having this issue.. 

Swallowing nervously on the evergrowing lump in his throat, he knew he needed to answer this well. “I really don’t. And it’s not like it matters if you were regardless, because that’s something I’d need to deal with myself. Where did this come from?”

Dan looked down. He was starting to feel guilty from Phil’s soft gaze in the mirror. “Have you ever seen me, though, Phil? Especially lately. I don’t want to look like hell for the tour. There’ll be so many pictures and comments and you know I can’t deal with it.” He mumbled into Phil’s shoulder, trying to hide his face - maybe more to hide his words - from the shame. 

“You will not look like hell, Dan,” Phil reached up and grabbed a few strands of Dan’s hair in his hand, rubbing his fingers back and forth against each other. “You look amazing all the time.”

“Stop lying to me.” 

Phil raised his eyebrows and backed away from Dan, a stern yet joking look on his features. He couldn’t believe he would accuse Phil of /lying/ about him being beautiful. “Have I ever lied to you before? Okay- no, don’t answer that, but still. I don’t- I don’t want you to get something you’ve worked very hard to get rid of back, and especially not for the tour. It would be way too difficult to try and manage, accidentally getting an eating thing, Dan..” 

Both of their hearts broke at Phil’s words. Dan, because he knew it was true, it would be way too difficult to manage something like what he got way back in 2012 - on tour, no less. Phil’s, because he wanted to see Dan happy and healthy - he deserved it after the hell he’d gone through. What with his /depression/ and his /family/ and his /career/ and he was /still/ trying to recover from some stuff he’d gone through in the years before. 

He didn’t need an added eating disorder right now- or ever, really.

“Dan- Dan, I can’t lose you to this again..” he brought his other hand up to Dan’s chin- God, his skin was so soft and beautiful, especially in the dark rays the moon was letting off into the room from the window. The night was warming up a slight bit, and it was getting more..bearable. He looked so soft and Phil wanted nothing more than to ravish in his boyfriend’s beauty. “I can’t lose you to a disorder, Dan. Not again. We- we need to work together. I’ll help you anyway I can, you know I will, alright?” 

Dan nothing but nodded and pushed further into Phil’s touches, his eyes fluttering shut. He couldn’t help the tears - whether sad or not, honestly - from pricking at the backs of his eyelids for another round again. He was overstressed, overtired, and clearly very over emotional tonight. 

“I don’t know why you stuck with me,” mumbled Dan out of the blue. “You’re way too good for me. I’ve got so many /issues/ and I really don’t know how or why you do it.” 

Phil didn’t respond. He simply kept his arms around Dan’s amazing shoulders, and looked up past his head at the window. It was still pitch dark, likely not even past three, and the only light that was streaming in and displaying onto Dan were the artificial lights from the roads and the strands of the light from the moon. Staying quiet was the best, most valuable answer he could’ve gone for. 

Dan knew that was Phil’s way of comforting him, and he didn’t really even mind it too much. He snuggled further into his boyfriend, keeping his voice quiet, too. His eyes were still blurry with tears. The night was warming up. “I’m sorry- I’ve got, like, no idea why I’m crying. I’m so dramatic.” He muttered, shaking his head and wiping at his eyes again, collapsing back into Phil. He was getting so delirious. 

“It’s alright to cry, it’s good for you sometimes.” Phil replied, shrugging. His hands found their way back to Dan’s matted, curly hair and kneaded further. He knew this usually managed to calm him down, at least a bit. “You know it’ll be fine, right? We’ve gotten through the impossible together. This tour’ll be like /nothing/ to us. We’ve gone through hell and we’re still here. It’ll get better someday, okay?” 

Dan nodded into Phil’s body, greatly, yet quietly, appreciating him playing mindlessly with his hair. He could relax into this feeling for a while. 

So, he did. His breathing eventually regulated, and his eyes dried up, little by little. And he was fine after a bit. 

He asked Phil to stay the rest of the night with him. It was good. He didn't need to worry about minutes from now, or hours, or years. It was time to sleep right now. They didn’t always sleep in the same bed but God, when Dan collapsed into the mess of pillows and sheets next to Phil, it felt like what he imagined Heaven to feel like. 

His Heaven was Phil and pillows, apparently. And a starry, clear, gleaming, night.


End file.
